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/lit/ - Literature

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>> No.12205410 [View]
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12205410

wtf im a schizoid now

>> No.12171761 [View]
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12171761

is there any book that feels like this except it is a novel?

>> No.12163825 [View]
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12163825

what do we think?

>> No.12143515 [View]
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12143515

holy shit

>> No.12101447 [View]
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12101447

wtf im a schizoid now

>> No.12093768 [View]
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12093768

>post a book
>get a book rec

>> No.12048070 [View]
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12048070

this is the greatest book I have ever read and evwrything I have read before does not compare

>> No.12034112 [View]
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12034112

now that the dust has settled what do we think?

>> No.12034069 [View]
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12034069

>>12032949
read this then start dreaming your life

>> No.12018704 [View]
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12018704

wtf this is literally me
>I’ve witnessed, incognito, the gradual collapse of my life, the slow foundering of all that I wanted to be. I can say, with a truth that needs no flowers to show it’s dead, that there’s nothing I’ve wanted – and nothing in which I’ve placed, even for a moment, the dream of only that moment – that hasn’t disintegrated below my windows like a clod of dirt that resembled stone until it fell from a flowerpot on a high balcony. It would even seem that Fate has always tried to make me love or want things just so that it could show me, on the very next day, that I didn’t have and could never have them.
>But as an ironic spectator of myself, I’ve never lost interest in seeing what life brings. And since I now know beforehand that every vague hope will end in disillusion, I have the special delight of already enjoying the disillusion with the hope, like the bitter with the sweet that makes the sweet sweeter by way of contrast. I’m a sullen strategist who, having never won a battle, has learned to derive pleasure from mapping out the details of his inevitable retreat on the eve of each new engagement.
>My destiny, which has pursued me like a malevolent creature, is to be able to desire only what I know I’ll never get. If I see the nubile figure of a girl in the street and imagine for the slightest moment, however nonchalantly, what it would be like if she were mine, it’s a dead certainty that ten steps past my dream she’ll meet the man who’s obviously her husband or lover. A romantic would make a tragedy out of this; a stranger to the situation would see it as a comedy; I, however, mix the two things, since I’m romantic in myself and a stranger to myself, and I turn the page to yet another irony.
>Some say that without hope life is impossible, others that with hope it’s empty. For me, since I’ve stopped hoping or not hoping, life is simply an external picture that includes me and that I look at, like a show without a plot, made only to please the eyes – an incoherent dance, a rustling of leaves in the wind, clouds in which the sunlight changes colour, ancient streets that wind every which way around the city.
>I am, in large measure, the selfsame prose I write. I unroll myself in sentences and paragraphs, I punctuate myself. In my arranging and rearranging of images I’m like a child using newspaper to dress up as a king, and in the way I create rhythm with a series of words I’m like a lunatic adorning my hair with dried flowers that are still alive in my dreams. And above all I’m calm, like a rag doll that has become conscious of itself and occasionally shakes its head to make the tiny bell on top of its pointed cap produce a sound, the jingling life of a dead man, a feeble notice to Fate.

>> No.11990867 [View]
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11990867

this is the greatest book ive ever read and everything ive read before does not compare

>> No.11986047 [View]
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11986047

wtf im a schizoid now

>> No.11978632 [View]
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11978632

>>11978620
our latest meme book

>> No.11949922 [View]
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11949922

>my favorite book is the book of disquiet
what type of person do you imagine?

>> No.11937709 [View]
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11937709

ok this fucking slaps

>> No.11913224 [View]
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11913224

>>11913201

>> No.11911550 [View]
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11911550

Nothing irks me more than the vocabulary of social responsibility. The very word ‘duty’ is unpleasant to me, like an unwanted guest. But the terms ‘civic duty’, ‘solidarity’, ‘humanitarianism’ and others of the same ilk disgust me like rubbish dumped out of a window right on top of me. I’m offended by the implicit assumption that these expressions pertain to me, that I should find them worthwhile and even meaningful. I recently saw in a toy-shop window some objects that reminded me exactly of what these expressions are: make-believe dishes filled with make-believe tidbits for the miniature table of a doll. For the real, sensual, vain and selfish man, the friend of others because he has the gift of speech and the enemy of others because he has the gift of life, what is there to gain from playing with the dolls of hollow and meaningless words? Government is based on two things: restraint and deception. The problem with those glittering expressions is that they neither restrain nor deceive. At most they intoxicate, which is something else again. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a reformer. A reformer is a man who sees the world’s superficial ills and sets out to cure them by aggravating the more basic ills. A doctor tries to bring a sick body into conformity with a normal, healthy body, but we don’t know what’s healthy or sick in the social sphere. I see humanity as merely one of Nature’s latest schools of decorative painting. I don’t distinguish in any fundamental way between a man and a tree, and I naturally prefer whichever is more decorative, whichever interests my thinking eyes. If the tree is more interesting to me than the man, I’m sorrier to see the tree felled than to see the man die. There are departing sunsets that grieve me more than the deaths of children. I keep my own feelings out of everything, in order to be able to feel. I almost reproach myself for writing these sketchy reflections in this moment when a light breeze, rising from the afternoon’s depths, begins to take on colour. In fact it’s not the breeze that takes on colour but the air through which it hesitantly glides. I feel, however, as if the breeze were being coloured, so that’s what I say, for I have to say what I feel, given that I’m I.

>> No.11903578 [View]
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11903578

is this a deconstruction of life?

>> No.11725759 [View]
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11725759

>>11725750

>> No.11713093 [View]
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11713093

>>11712290

>> No.11561109 [View]
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11561109

what are some books that have always stayed with you? the sort of books that you constantly flip and read through and are always fascinated by. for me is pic related, zhuangzi, and that book of artaud's selected writings

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